From Pool to Open Sea: 20 Years of Searching for Vietnam's Swimming Identity

I stood by the My Dinh international pool at 5 AM, watching young swimmers aged 16-17 cut through the water in lanes 4 and 5. They were doing intense turn drills, the kind of training I've seen at development centers in Australia and America. But there was a small detail few people notice: their stroke tempo wasn't even between lanes. Lane 4 was noticeably faster, but lane 5 kept a more stable rhythm. To someone who swam for 15 years and has followed Vietnamese swimming for over a decade, I know this difference isn't random — it reflects two training philosophies coexisting in our swimming nation.

The context of this story begins in 2026, when Vietnamese swimming won its first SEA Games gold medal on home soil. Two decades later, we're still struggling to answer the question: who is Vietnamese swimming on the Asian swimming map? The answer doesn't lie in medal counts, but in how we train, how we scout talent, and how we define success.

Over the past 20 years, Vietnamese swimming has gone through three distinct development phases. The first phase (2026-2026) was a period of emotional explosion: we had Nguyen Huu Viet with the first SEA Games gold, then Nguyen Thi Anh Vien emerged as a phenomenon. The second phase (2026-2026) saw Anh Vien's dominance in Southeast Asia with 25 SEA Games gold medals, but simultaneously exposed structural weaknesses: we relied too heavily on one individual. The third phase (2026 to present) is a difficult transition period as Anh Vien retired, and the next generations haven't yet reached the level to replace her.

Data from the last 5 SEA Games reveals a harsh truth: while Thailand and Singapore have at least 3-4 athletes achieving Olympic A-cuts at each edition, Vietnam only has 1-2 athletes achieving B-cuts. This isn't a talent issue, but a system issue. I've spent hours in meetings with head coaches, and the question always revolves around: how do we replicate Anh Vien's success model? The answer they don't want to hear is: you can't replicate a genius. We need a system, not a miracle.

Looking at Thailand, they built their training system on a model combining sports schools with private clubs. In 2026, they established the National Swimming Training Center in Samut Prakan with 20 Olympic-standard lanes, investing 10 million USD. Singapore took a different approach: they hired Australian and American coaches, while sending athletes for long-term training camps in Australia. Vietnam is still debating whether to spend 5 million USD upgrading the National Sports Training Center in Hanoi.

From a technical perspective, I've observed that Vietnamese athletes have advantages in flexibility and quick learning ability, but lack fundamental physical conditioning. In VO2max tests I've attended as an observer, young Vietnamese swimmers typically score 55-60 ml/kg/min, while Thai swimmers of the same age reach 62-65. This gap isn't genetic — it's due to the foundational training system. We emphasize early technique but neglect comprehensive physical development at ages 12-15 — the golden window for cardiovascular system development.

The story of Nguyen Thuy Hien, 17, a breaststroke swimmer training at the Da Nang High-Performance Athlete Training Center, is a case in point. Hien achieved the Olympic B-cut for Paris 2026 in the 100m breaststroke with a time of 1:09.32. But when I asked her coach about development plans, he admitted: "We don't have a scientific data tracking system. I rely on my experience and intuition." This is the biggest difference between us and advanced swimming nations.

Meanwhile, at the National Swimming Training Center in Samut Prakan, every Thai swimmer is equipped with sensors measuring stroke force, analyzing elbow angle, and stroke rate in real time. They have a team of 5 full-time data analysis specialists. How many such specialists does Vietnam have? I asked this question to the leadership of the Vietnam Aquatic Sports Federation, and the answer was: none.

Another perspective I want to offer, which may go against conventional thinking: we shouldn't make Olympic goals the sole measure of Vietnamese swimming development. It sounds counterintuitive, but look at the facts. Thailand had an Olympic finalist in 2026 (Nattawee Chamanon in the 200m backstroke), yet recreational swimming participation in Thailand remains only 2% of the population. Singapore has Joseph Schooling as Olympic champion in 2026, but the cost of maintaining such a system is unsustainable for a small nation.

A smarter strategy for Vietnam is building sustainable growth from a grassroots foundation, combined with targeted investment in 3-4 strength events. Based on my experience following domestic competitions over 10 years, I've noticed Vietnam has natural strengths in short-distance breaststroke and backstroke events (50m, 100m). This might relate to the body morphology and flexibility of Vietnamese people. Instead of spreading resources across all events, we should focus on these strengths.

I once witnessed a training session of the national youth team at the Ho Chi Minh City National Sports Training Center, where coaches still used handheld stopwatches and blackboards for recording. Meanwhile, in Australia, assistant coaches use tablets with motion analysis software and performance tracking apps. This technology gap isn't a luxury — it's the determining factor between success and failure at the international level.

From the perspective of someone who has followed Vietnamese swimming from its early days, I believe our biggest blind spot isn't technique or fitness, but long-term development strategy. We're still operating on an outdated model: scouting athletes from youth competitions, placing them in training centers, and hoping they'll succeed. This model has been obsolete since the 1990s. Asia's leading swimming nations — China, Japan, South Korea — have all transitioned to data-driven training models, combining schools, clubs, and national training centers.

The story of Vietnam's 4x200m freestyle relay team at SEA Games 32 is a typical example. We finished 4th, 3.45 seconds behind Singapore. When I reviewed the footage, I noticed our third leg swimmer, Nguyen Quang Thuan, lost nearly 0.5 seconds on his turn — an enormous margin at this level. This isn't Thuan's fault, but the fault of a training system that doesn't emphasize turn technique — a seemingly small aspect that can make a huge difference.

From mispronouncing an international athlete's name in my first commentary, I learned that meticulous attention to small details creates big differences. Just as a good turn can save 0.5 seconds, a correct development strategy can save an entire decade. Vietnamese swimming doesn't need a miracle; it needs a system: a data system, a coach training system, a talent scouting system from the school level.

Looking back at 20 years, we've had moments of glory: Nguyen Huu Viet's first SEA Games gold in 2026, Anh Vien's 25 gold medals, and national records continually being broken. But that glory can't mask the fact that we still stand outside the top 20 in Asia in most Olympic events. The question isn't "what can we do in the next 5 years," but "what foundation do we want to build for the next 20 years."

I stood by the pool at 5 AM, watching young swimmers cut through the water under yellow lights. They don't know they're part of a larger experiment — the experiment of finding identity for Vietnamese swimming. And I wonder: will we look back 20 years from now and say we built a system, or are we still waiting for another miracle?